


inhale, exhale

by ofsaturn



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Introspection, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofsaturn/pseuds/ofsaturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which sanghyuk feels the burn of wonsik's lips against his own for days and it's empty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	inhale, exhale

**Author's Note:**

> i broke my son's heart while having no initial intention to do so. this was supposed to be a fluff fic but it went off on its own i swear idk what i'm doing half the time

he’d been watching the occasional flash of headlights flicker by his window for twenty minutes, chin tucked into the pillow that his arms are underneath. his eyes are heavy, weighted with dreams itching to take control of his irises, itching to bring him places elsewhere. and yet, he wasn’t anywhere close to falling asleep. instead, and most annoyingly so, his mind was on the person sitting two feet below. with slick palms and his stomach unsteady, sanghyuk yawns and rolls over onto his back, the sound of wonsik’s music echoing up to him. soft, like everything in sanghyuk’s vision right then, blurry and muddled.

“hyung,” he calls to the ceiling above, the harshness of the sound leaving him unsettled in the silence that follows, but it passes. he takes a breath and tries again.

“hyung?” sanghyuk rolls over to the edge of his bed, peeking over the edge with his fists bunched up in cold sheets. he eyes wonsik’s feet before – after a bit of shuffling, wonsik’s face pops out from underneath the edge, lips pursed in question.

“hm?” wonsik’s brows quirk with the noise, and sanghyuk smiles briefly because his eyes look just as lidded and heavy as he himself felt.

“what’re you doing?” sanghyuk’s voice cracks at the end, trails off. wonsik blinks back at him, before slipping back out of sight.

“working on something.” he hears after a moment, and sanghyuk nods at no one.

“like a song,” he mumbles back into the dark space of their room and it’s not a question, not really. his fingers fiddle with his blankets like they’re unsure of their original function but are eagerly searching for it. he rolls his eyes, grips the sheets harder. he feels like he’s scrambling for something, for company in the noise of his head and it feels stupid.

“yeah, i didn’t know you were up,” wonsik’s voice sounds muffled in the space between them, between wood and blankets and limbs and air.

sanghyuk waits, gives himself the minute to second-guess himself the way he always does, touches the insides of his wrists (the ends of his shorts bunched up at his thighs the back of his neck) with shaking fingers.

when he crawls over the edge of the bed and lands with a thump on the carpet below, there’s a tremor in his throat that makes him feel like he might melt. when his eyes meets wonsik’s, illuminated by the soft white-blue glow of the screen in front of them, he feels like he might’ve already melted.

“can’t sleep,” he says and his voice is low and rough when he slips under the edge of the top bunk to sit by wonsik’s legs. wonsik nods, lips quirking briefly. they’re quiet then, for a little while, the soft sound of wonsik’s typing echoing in the air between them, just over the low hum of music. sanghyuk clenches his fists.

“there’s something on your mind.” wonsik says, eyes flickering over to sanghyuk’s briefly, and there’s a steadiness to his gaze that makes sanghyuk clear his throat.

a minute or so passes like an eternity. he’s stopped typing, but it isn’t until sanghyuk speaks again that wonsik looks at him fully.

“what am i to you?” the words come out low, wavering before sanghyuk clears his throat again. wonsik watches him, eyes searching like he has a hundred things to say but nothing comes out. it only makes sanghyuk feel like hitting him just to get something out of him, anything. but he doesn’t. wonsik’s fingers hover over his keyboard and he drops his gaze, swallows. sanghyuk feels sick, turns his head, almost laughs. it was there, before wonsik even had to say it.

“i-i.. i don’t know.”

  


(sanghyuk remembers the night, remembers the cold biting at his cheeks and the warmth of wonsik’s lips against his, tentative and slow like a question. he remembers the winter wind in his hair, the feeling of his heart hammering in his throat when he reached out and slid his fingers along the inside of wonsik’s wrist, just below his jacket sleeve. he remembers the puffs of breath that rose between them and the flush to wonsik’s cheeks that matched the insides of his lips. he remembers the moment he realized that what he felt was more than he thought it’d be.

most of all, he remembers the faint sliver of regret that swam in wonsik’s eyes as they broke apart.)


End file.
